nel buio, prima dell'alba
by regentage
Summary: Ludwig was a teenager living with his brother and grandfather before he was drafted into the military during World War Two. Now, Ludwig gets himself involved with the wrong people and desperately wants to find a way out. Until, everything is falling beyond the reach of his hands... [canon in the fanfic: Gerita, Lietpol possible ships: Fruk, Spamano, Rusame, Pruhun, Aushun]
1. Chapter 1

**warning: this contains ideology sensitivity like Nazism. So please proceed with caution. The beliefs and views written here and spoken by the characters do not reflect onto the author's views. Thank you.**

* * *

nel buio, prima dell'alba  
en la oscuridad, antes del amanecer  
in der Dunkelheit, vor der Morgendämmerung  
dans l'obscurité, avant l'aube  
в темноте, до рассвета  
tamsoje iki aušros  
w ciemności, przed świtem

in the darkness, before the dawn

* * *

_Chapter One of Nel buio, prima dell'alba_

The air was too thick to breath. The smell of death and blood clung desperately to the living plants. The crimson liquid stained the ground, the plants, and bodies. There was nowhere to hide from the enemy, it was a rolling meadow, and the British had secured their position with the Americans in the forests lining the meadow while he and his men were stuck out in the open, corpses falling to the ground in the masses.

_June 26th, 1942: near the border of France via Belgium_

Ludwig was seventeen when he was enrolled in the military and went through training for a couple of months by the time he was put in the Heer, Ludwig was eighteen. His brother, Gilbert, had been deemed fit to be in the Luftwaffe where Ludwig had only dreamed about serving there. But no, he was stuck here with that lump in his throat as the bodies found their final resting place on the meadow's ground, the flowers gently moving at the breeze from the impact of the other.

And here he was, hiding behind a tree that stuck out from the forest that his fellow soldiers were hiding in. The blond was crouched down, his rifle in hand that was busy loading a cartage inside as quick as his fingers could possibly go. Ludwig turned to his left, peeking his head out behind the tree and his rifle in front of him, waiting for any sign of movement.

Ludwig cursed as a bullet whizzed by and the echo of gunfire booming from across the enemy trees. He was spotted, they knew where he was. The German let out a sigh, pulling his helmet off to slick his hair back.

The sun was hovering over the trees, casting long shadows and light to be able to see the men as they prepared their guns to fire. It had started to get quiet out, only gunfire when someone was spotted. Most of his fellow soldiers were returning back to camp in the silence but he chose to stay out. On guard perhaps, in case one of the Americans decided to be cocky.

Ludwig crouched in the same spot for some moments, mulling over ideas until the one came to his mind. He pulled off his supplies and backpack, resting it against the tree and pulling the cover flap off. He sat on the ground from his position, quietly taking the contents from their secure places. He had returned everything to the pack besides three things. Three hand grenades.

They were too heavy in Ludwig's hand as he stood. A suicide mission that wasn't even a mission, a risk and if he messed this up even if he lived he would end up looking down at his own grave. A deep breath was nesscary.

There was a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to tell someone, but they would probably repeat the same things that Ludwig was thinking himself. Someone to grab his supplies and make sure that the Allies' forces would never find them sitting casually under a tree, looking lonelier than ever.

If they found it, they wouldn't find anything worthy. Ludwig took out the remaining bullets before digging a small hole and covering it up in dirt and some moss that had been ripped up from a grenade earlier. Next, he jammed the rifle. He also get rid of anything on his uniform that was too noisy, even his jacket where you could hear the material thump against his thighs. Although, he kept his helmet, that was staying. Once all the preparations were just in case he didn't make it back. Dead, captured, or tortured. All the same in the end.

Ludwig walked along the German line until nightfall. He couldn't see a damn thing until the moon caught onto the sun's ray, shining down on the meadow and trees. He took another breath. There would be guards and he needed to get into the trees as quick as possible on the Allies side even though there was the giant stretch of meadow. He could get shot in the meantime, it didn't matter, he just needed to follow his instincts. Ludwig shoved the grenades in his pockets, moving quietly across the meadow, weaving in and out of the thick grassed patches. So far, everything was okay. But this wasn't hell yet; when he reached inside it would be. He had been traveling for about two minutes at a slower pace across the stretch of grass before he reached the first tree, then more and more trees to create a forest. Ludwig stopped, burrowing himself into a bush in the deep silence.

He needed to think battle tactics here. He wasn't sure where the Allied camp was but he could start to see distant flickers of lights coming from the north and west, possibly a couple spread out camp either way he only had three grenades to waste. The German found the easiest tree, climbing up into the tall limbs before jumping into another across the way. Too loud, idiot. Maybe after doing this for a while I'll get better... He thought to himself. Indeed, after some time it did get easier and more trust directed at himself. One disadvantage was Ludwig himself. Being big and muscular, he had to get on the stronger branches so he didn't fall but he had the advantage of surprise. If that even was an advantage anymore.

The light was closer than ever, the echoing of voices everywhere. Thank The Lord that he learned English, taught by his grandfather and Gilbert who had learned it from one of his friends named Francis. Ludwig spotted his eyes on the people, bustling about. His throat ran dry. He didn't want to kill them, no, this was painful. Smiles on their faces, laughter in their voices, everything that Ludwig didn't want to hear. He was doing this to stop the bloodshed. Ludwig closed his eyes and breathed.

One grenade was in his hand.

The one grenade. He planned on putting it in the least populated place, right by the rations. He didn't want to kill anyone there, no. His heartbeat was too fast, the heavy little explosion weighing down his hand. Ludwig's fingers clasped around the small metal pin and ripped it out in one swift motion. As quick as he could, he swung his arm back and threw it at the rations. In the dark, he could see the outline of it hit the boxes, rolling just a bit to the side before hell let loose. His hands went right to his ears at the large, explosion rippled through the forest. After unplugging his ears and the sound of fire ripping through the boxes and the small shards that had landed around him met his ears as well as the forest animals retreating.

The Allies would be looking for him in motions so he had to move fast. He scrambled out of the tree, his feet carrying him as fast and quietly as they could guide him. Soon another light was in his sights. God damn it. The German peeled the other grenade from his pocket, racing past the other camp and this time un-pinning and throwing to the nearest rations, the impact of the explosion helping him to run faster as he did so.

Constant running at a high speed went for about five minutes until he could hear the yells and shouts of the English. He didn't smile. No, there was no success yet. Ludwig ran. The meadow seemed far to big then it normally was for the past week. Oh. They had spotted him now; he could hear the gunfire and the sound of bullets. He had stayed to the shadows but every now and then the moonlight caught his outline and gave him away. It died down after a while. Ludwig also stopped by his things, but only put his jacket back on and the backpack with a mumble under his breath and pants escaping too.

His camp was not too far off. His pace slowed down to a walk. In the heat of the moment, he hadn't noticed his wounds. There were many, just the burns that had claimed his skin on the back of his calves and back. They hurt now, but they weren't as bad as Ludwig had seemed them on fellow soldiers before. Once rounding camp, business was as usual. No one had seen him. No one had noticed him gone. No one had heard the explosions. Well besides the guards, but no one knew that yet.

In the morning there was a meeting. Everyone gathered. The commander talked. Someone had snuck into Allied territory, he explained, and successfully blew up a great portion of their rations. They had praised this for bravely and loyalty to their country. They didn't know whether it was a traitor in Allied territory (it was highly doubted but could be a spy of theirs) or Axis solider. Ludwig would have preferred no praise. He didn't want to be recognized for what he did. But, no one ever gets what they want in the end.

_July 3rd, 1942: Berlin, Germany_

This train was high class. Ludwig had never expected to be seated on such a grand train, heading back to his home, to his family in Berlin. He had also imagined dying on the battlefield with all his friends besides him. If he had any friends in the first place.

On the night of destroying the rations, someone had spoken up. Three soldiers were missing at camp and had been shrugged off for guarding even though there were guards. Ludwig and two other men suspected. They checked their supplies. Two explosions had taken place at the night ambush of the Allies. All three grenades were used in one man's pack, one hadn't used any, and Ludwig had only one left. Number two was no longer a suspect. No one had to be no longer suspected in examining Ludwig's burns and came to a conclusion.

Berlin was on the horizon. The train was slowing. And the station welcomed it with open arms.

Stepping onto the platform and hearing his shoes strike the hard pavement, Ludwig let out a sigh. Berlin was different from what he remembered. The city of his family, holidays spent laughing and annoying older brother pestering him many days. Now it was cold. No laughter. All the color seemed to be drain from their faces, everything a brush stroke of black and white besides his own blond hair standing out among the crowd. The hat in his hands suddenly had made its way to his head, covering the brightness from the monotone colors of the city.

The car ride was long. Might it had been for Ludwig seeing the city in another light or just the distance had grown since he had been away. Either way, as they neared the unfamiliar nerves of nervousness and guilt clutched at his stomach. He wasn't exactly sure why, though he hadn't been home for a year or just that he was coming home so soon, so unexpected. He was meant to never return.

The black car slowed. Upon leaving the car, they also told him to leave his coat; so he did. He exited and walked up to the stairs. His keys easily fit into the lock as he turned the knob.

"_Hallo?_ Anyone home?" Ludwig called into the darkness of the building, dropping his backpack with his few possessions by the door and kicking off his boots before placing them neatly. He was still wearing his uniform though he rather not.

The movement caught his eye. An older man who looked exactly like Ludwig but with longer hair, same expression and facial features emerged from the threshold of the main entrance. Besides the eyes; the older gentleman's eyes were a colder, dark blue compared to Ludwig's that were a bright, sky blue that held life to them compared to the other's who had seen many things. This they shared. They both have seen many things that they wished they could forget.

"Ludwig..?"

Ludwig awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, taking a step forward. His grandfather's mouth twitched, trying possibly to form a smile but didn't quite work. "I was not expecting you home, but I will make wurst in celebration. Also, Gilbert is returning home tomorrow."

That night, sleep wasn't easy. Both for the return of his brother and why they sent him home.

By the time that Ludwig had awakened, Gilbert wasn't home. Not yet. That would be better if he came home earlier, for the both of them. Would save Ludwig from the upcoming shame that some people he used to know would kill for. Literally and figuratively.

The black car had returned by eight o'clock sharp, grandfather having gone out shopping the hour earlier he couldn't have said goodbye. A note would due for now. The car ride was not as long as the first due to that Ludwig wished he could stay in there his whole life and never get out. He didn't want to go here. He didn't want to be this person. He didn't want to hurt people for some absurd reason. Nonetheless, he had to. It was an "honor", "privilege", people would look up to him with "respect". The car slowed. He got out. He was welcomed by two lines of soldiers, two of them carrying the flag at the ends as he neared the end of the line.

People from the town had gathered by now once the speaking had started. The man before Ludwig went on and on about the courageous deeds he had performed during war echoed by the soft murmurs of the crowd. The attention was making spiders creep up his skin. No it was impossible, these people were making sound like a monster and that wasn't what he was... right? He didn't want to know whose blood stained his hands, he didn't even want the blood on his hands! Ludwig tried to keep his eyes widening in protest and somehow maintained the same barren expression pasted to his face. He had a heart unlike the people surrounding him.

They gave him a new hat. He didn't like it. His jacket that he had left in the car was remolded as well. On the collar they had put collar tabs on the collar of his jacket, the one to his right two lightning bolts and the left one had a pip and two stripes underneath it in white while the patch was solid black, sticking out from his grey uniform. There was also the new shoulder straps that gained their position on the shoulders of the jacket. An red arm band had also been put on the jacket. To be polite, Ludwig reached out and took the coat with a nod of his head before slinging it over his shoulders.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt, _Scharführer der Schutzstaffel_!" The man announced. All Ludwig wanted to do was run away.

After the ceremony, Ludwig had declined the car ride home. In turn, many people before he left came up to him desperate to congratulate him. He wasn't exactly sure if some of them were trying to get on his good side for future reference or just to be "kind". Whatever they were aiming at, he didn't want any part of it.

The walk home was quiet and somewhat uneasy. The new title made his skin prickle as well not to mention the glares and stares of the people as he walked by. He had to pull the hat down a bit to cover his eyes. He did not exactly want to make eye contact and let them stare on though he looked around to distract himself from the harsh eyes of certain citizens. Ludwig wanted to protect these people not wear a uniform that would submission them into fear. Instead of respect it was fear. But wasn't that was fear was in the end? Just a contributing factor to respect?

The buildings cast their dark, looming shadows across the street. The later it got in the day, the more people were out. It was nice to see. Human beings walking around compared to the battlefield where they laid on the ground in a deep broken sleep. It was comforting to say in the least.

Home was in front of him now. His felt were growing heavy from the nerves and the constant eyeing. Now he could escape that. The knob turned under his grip giving a small creak as the door unfurled into the brightness of the hallway, the dim sun blinding his eyes for a moment before they readjusted. Ludwig took a step in and closed the door behind him, tucking the hat under his arm and proceeding to the living room to figure out where grandfather was.

Then everything froze.

His brother was sitting on the couch, the coffee table scattered with papers and another man sitting next to him, his finger landed on one of the lines before they both looked up at the same time when Ludwig entered the room. Gilbert's red eyes pierced through him, his platinum hair shining in the bright sunshine letting the creases of his face brimming with surprise. The other with bright, glaring blue eyes and longer blond hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, shock written and covered his face.

"Why is there a SS officer in your house?" the blond asked, his eyes locked on Ludwig. It was Francis, he recognized him. His brother's French friend, Francis Bonnefoy was his proper name. The accent was clear.

"Pfft," Gilbert laughed, standing up and walking towards the other blond, "he's not an SS officer! Ludwig, take off that silly jacket and stop playing around!"

"Little Ludwig..?" the Frenchman echoed. He appeared to be shocked.

_"Ja!"_

Ludwig's eyes locked onto the floor, shaking his head. He wasn't the crying type. So the tears did not flow. Secretly, Ludwig wished they did. He wished they could see that he honestly did not want this. This wasn't his choice. They would probably send him to the Russian or African front if he didn't accept the "honor". Then he would never see Gilbert ever again. He couldn't let another family member leave his family, no.

_"Nein."_

_"Je vous demande pardon?"_ Francis asked, blinking from Gilbert and Ludwig. The older brother had retreated back with a stagger to the sofa.

The younger sibling refused to meet their eyes, finding that he was interested in the weather outside the window above the sofa rather than his brother and company.

"I've been promoted to _Scharführer_ in the _Schutzstaffel_."

And with that the color drained out of Gilbert's and Francis' faces.

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notes:

3,395 words for this chapter if you needed to know~ (including these notes)

Also, I used google translate for the translations into German and French since the only language I know is Spanish. And I got all my information about the uniforms for Ludwig from Wikipedia, yet again and sadly. The battle was made up too so watch out if something like that ever happened during 1942, I dunno know about it. I'll call it the Battle of the Damaged Rations.

Important note too! Due since there isn't much information on the SS and according to what I'm doing I'm going off of knowledge used in Wikipedia (other sites around too), so if you do know more about the SS, I would love to know. Thanks.

One more thing, if you think if I should tone it down on the mentions of Nazism (possible Communism and Fascism also for future reference) and the views of it, please tell me. The purpose of the fanfiction is to take the time period seriously and if you find it offending in any way, please do tell me.

**Anything Said Or Written In The Fanfiction Are Possibly The Views And Beliefs Of Fictional Characters And Do Not Reflect The Views Or Beliefs Of The Author**


	2. Chapter 2

_July 4th, 1942: continued_

Ludwig turned away. He didn't care; he did not care about what they were thinking. This was his duty to his country, to be loyal at all costs and he wasn't going to let his brother get in the way of that. His feet brought him to the coat rack in which he discarded the coat on its own hook and the hat on top of it.

He hadn't noticed that his legs were carrying him up the stairs. Ludwig had been too engulfed in the furry of his own mind, drowning in the waves that pushed and pulled him back and forth. If only he could escape this world to a better one. The closest thing to that was his bedroom but honestly it was just escaping to a cage full of memories and his mind would close in around him. Either this or Gilbert, and he didn't want to feel the guilt of his brother.

The disappointment and shock did not fade from Gilbert's eyes as Ludwig stomped up the stairs. When the albino turned his head back to Francis, a hint of betrayal flashed in his eyes.

"Stop," Gilbert growled, "I didn't know Ludwig was insane."

Francis gave a cruel laugh. "Insane? Ha. He's a Nazi, Gilbert, get it through your head. They're more than insane."

Gilbert ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He loved Ludwig didn't he? Then, why couldn't he get the feeling of flaring red hot furry and pangs of guilt? He was doing this for Ludwig, for all of them, for everyone. Then why did Ludwig betray him?

"There's no such thing as a good Nazi," Francis continued as his blue eyes grazed over the German, "you should know that."

"Shut up, Francis. You came here to discuss plans and that's what I plan on doing! Ludwig isn't down here now, is he? I haven't even told him what I'm doing." The German retorted and sat, staring at the papers.

"I'm surprised you wouldn't want to go through with this now. You're betraying your family; you're betraying your brother."

"Don't you think I know that?"

It was an hour later when Antonio arrived at the home in Berlin. When Francis was alone with Gilbert it looked as if two friends were gathering, welcoming the soldier home from battle. But now that Antonio came, they had to close the curtains. It wasn't good if the whole neighborhood was suspicious and they had a SS officer in their house nonetheless.

It was also that Ludwig had never emerged from his bedroom. For in fact, he had sat in the window sill in his bedroom the whole time. The dull colors of Berlin set him inside some trance of thought. Sometimes he latched onto words his brother and his friends said when they spoke too loud. Any ever time it made him flinch.

Francis and Gilbert were seated on the couch, papers scattered in their laps along with all over the table. Antonio had chosen to sit on the floor, his crossed legs underneath the coffee table where they had stationed themselves.

His grandfather kept himself occupied by tending to the garden. He came in every now and then to roll his eyes at the boys as they discussed, but normally to clean off vegetables that he had grown from his garden.

But their talk grew quieter.

"Feliks Łukasiewicz was captured recently by the SS." Antonio spoke. "I guess they found out he was working with Toris. But they don't have Toris, just Feliks."

Francis sighed, pulling his locks back into a pony tail but letting his hair fall again.

"Who is Toris spying for and who is he spying on again?" Gilbert asked with a groan.

"Arthur Kirkland. He's a Captain for the British Army," Francis answered quickly but ended up coughing when the Spaniard and the German looked oddly at him.

The Frenchman rolled his eyes at them before continuing talking. "He's spying on Ivan Braginsky and his sister Natalia Arlovskaya, Feliks was spying on a group of SS officials in Poland. And now they've caught him."

"They're having two brothers named Feliciano and Lovino go to Poland. I got Toris' letter that they just passed Elizabeta. Feliks has been there for two days actually, but they captured him awhile they just hadn't had the time to bring him back to the headquarters here."

"That asshole, we need that information more than the Nazis do. We don't need more people to get captured, _danke_." The German murmured sarcastically.

"What information?" asked a shadow whom had been standing in the door frame from the kitchen, the cold piercing eyes of Ludwig.

Antonio's green orbs spread wide open as Gilbert's hardened.

"None of our business, Ludwig, go back upstairs."

When Ludwig wanted to be intimidating, he could pull it off as he emerged from the shadows. There was no sign of an expression on his face besides his eyes flickered and contrasted with a threat. A threat for anything, just so that he knew what they were talking about. Nonetheless, the German had gotten what Gilbert had said. Ludwig was not a Nazi. He did not support the party, he hated them for that matter of fact. So why was he trying to get the information out of his brother and his older friends? Curiosity perhaps. More that he was yearning for Gilbert's trust once again even if it meant that he was going against the SS. He loved his brother and he wanted the other to know that and for him to love him once more. Gilbert did still love him but Ludwig didn't know that, no. He wasn't the best at understanding his own emotions nonetheless others.

"I deserve to know. This is my house too." Ludwig said sigh internally at how childish that had sounded.

Francis nervously shuffled through the papers, connecting eyes with the Spaniard which screamed desperately not to tell anything. No spoken words but Ludwig could read them like a piece of paper. Gilbert had stood up now and had nudged Francis with his shoe once he had seen his brother's brilliant blue eyes flash to the Frenchman.

"_Nein._ It doesn't concern _you_." Gilbert coolly said.

The younger brother slightly flinched before he narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. Ludwig was only wearing a black tank top as well as his uniform pants and boots. The kid was muscular for the matter of fact and it clearly shone in the light. He could probably kill anyone in one second.

Ludwig stared at him with unwavering orbs. "I can report you for suspicion. I am a _Scharführer_."

"I'm sorry, _bruder_, its for your own safety."

Ludwig continued to stare at him before blinking dully. He turned on his heel, departing from the living room. His big hands gripped onto the collar of his uniform, slipping one arm into it after another. The hat soon followed after. He moved the coat rack to get to the mirror that was hiding behind it. The hat was a little crooked so he fixed it along with the skull on top of it which made him stare uneasily stare at himself in it.

The German let out a small sigh, turned around, and opened the door.

"I'm not safe if I'm in the SS."

* * *

_July 5th, 1942: Berlin, (Nazi) Germany_

Feliks had his arms and legs chained to the wall he was mounted on, his head bent forward and staring dully at the ground. Two days ago he had been taken by the SS and tortured all night long for the matter of fact. But Feliks refused to spill his information, he was doing it for Toris, the man he loved. He didn't want anyone to end up like this. Hanging from a wall, broken.

A couple of men stepped into the room. They were talking in German.

"If he doesn't break, _Hauptsturmführer_ says we ought to transfer him to the Gestapo." One of the men announced, leaning against the cell's bars.

"I plan on breaking him," snarled another man, reaching forward and grabbing Feliks' hair, pulling his head up with a snap.

Feliks murmured something as a trickle of blood came from his nose before spitting out some blood onto the floor.

"I've been appointed to do it today, leave." Another man said in a stern tone.

"Fine, hotshot," the eager one snarled back before leaving.

The two other men had kicked Feliks for good measure before finally departing and closing the door behind them. Their booted feet clicks down into the hallway and not until the sound stopped did the other German move.

The light caught on him, showing slicked blond hair and blue eyes. He crouched onto the ground underneath the Pole, staring up at him. "Feliks, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need your information."

Feliks thrashed a bit, his breath becoming hard and ragged as he tried to reach out to do some damage to Ludwig who remained in his position.

"Feliks, the sooner you tell me the sooner this will be all over. You know that. Tell me." Ludwig persisted with a small sigh.

He stood up and paced for a moment.

"You're not like t-them," Feliks shakily spat before coughing up a pool of blood that splashed onto the ground.

"_Ja_. I don't want to be like them. My _bruder_ taught me better."

"T-Tell Toris I love him, please-e if you are really good..." The Pole weakly hushed.

Ludwig stared at him with piercing blue eyes before nodding. "_Ich_ will."

A small content expression flashed onto Feliks for a moment. He wanted this German to tell Toris he was alright. He hadn't said a word, yet. But one of the Germans had enough sense to actually know and conscious of what he was doing. Until all the other men with their cruel words and tortures. No, he was the best of them so far. It relieved him to say so because none of them knew his relationship with Toris and if they did, he would get unlimited battleground of words thrown at him. They might even throw him into a camp.

Ludwig's orbs lingered onto Feliks before he turned around and his hands gripped tightly onto the cell's doorknob. He jerked it backwards and closed it quietly behind himself, walking down the hallway. He rounded a corner and went down that hallway also. At the end of the hall was a room where all the hustle and bustle was coming from, all his fellow officers who he would indeed like to smack them all up the heads.

The eager from earlier spotted the German first and approached. "I didn't hear any screams." He hissed.

"He talked to me." Ludwig pushed him aside followed by the man cursing loudly at him in pure jealousy.

Ludwig came over to his presiding officer, the man he reported to. His name was Nagel, an older gentleman who wasn't so mean. The man had been in the Nazi party for about twenty years and experienced a lot going through. He didn't carry out any of the interrogations surprisingly and when he saw his men doing something other than orders he punished them. Ludwig was the only one he could connect to- not only the one there who enjoyed bullying and torturing other people.

"_Hauptsturmführer_ Nagel," Ludwig addressed him, "Feliks spoke."

The _Hauptsturmführer_ turned towards him from the conversation he had been having with another man, waving him away at Ludwig's words. "_Was? Was_ did he say?"

Ludwig wasn't going to tell him what he said. Yes, he was going to lie. And if they found out. If they found out. Ludwig was risking everything on the line. If they found out he would be dead, his brother and grandfather and another relatives he had no idea would be wiped completely off the map. Just like that. He didn't even know if the Pole would go through with his plans.

"He said that he was employeed by another SS officer in Poland to spy on the others and gather information. Feliks did not say the name. He said that the officer planned on assassinating all of them." Ludwig lied perfectly. Too easy.

The _Hauptsturmführer_ Nagel sighed with a nod. "_Danke schön_, Ludwig. One more thing today, please escort a new arrival to a cell."

Ludwig accepted the orders with a quick nod before heading back the way he came and to the entrance of the building.

A trunk was parked in front as his feet carried down the stairs. The warm air hit him constantly as he cocked an eyebrow and rounded the trunk. A few other men were standing out in the back, barking to each and such in instructions. One of the men approached Ludwig. "Here to get him?"

"_Ja._"

"From Poland as well as the other. His name is Feliciano Vargas. Italian. So far he only speaks Italian too. But a couple interrogations and he'll be screaming fluent German."

Ludwig's breath hitched in his throat as he saw them drag the other from the trunk. His throat ran dry, his heart thumped unevenly in his chest. Pangs of guilt drowned him as well as a warmth that stormed through his chest. He grabbed Feliciano's arm which the other yelled and flailed lightly, fear brimming in his eyes which made Ludwig flinch. "Quiet down or it will make it worse," he said.

Feliciano quieted down to whimpers as the German brought him up the stairs and into the building. "_Tirarmi fuori, per favore..._" The Italian said. Ludwig didn't understand besides that he said please and it sounded like a plead. Like any other prisoner said when they brought them here. But the plead twisted the SS officer's gut in awkward ways. He didn't want to feel like this! What was the feeling anyways and towards a total stranger?

Ludwig brought him up to the less populated floor. Why? He again was not sure. He felt like he should protect the other from as much as he could. What was wrong with him!? What were these feelings!? Not many of the officers came up here due to these were the people who weren't very interesting to interrogate. They weren't a challenge for them. He gingerly, he felt like he could break Feliciano with his hands so easily, placed the other in the cell with no restraints.

The Italian had the most beautiful colored hair as well as glossy amber orbs probably from the crying which was visible around his eyes had gotten red. His eyes stared up at Ludwig, pleading and pleading that caused the German to back away unevenly. "_Entschuldigung._" Ludwig said and departed.

* * *

_July 5th, 1942: Berlin, (Nazi) Germany: home_

"Gilbert," Ludwig spoke once he had gotten home and found the other at the coffee table once more but this time no Francis and Antonio. The two had decided to stay at a hotel a little ways down the road.

"_Was_?" Gilbert asked, not straying his eyes from the paper clamped in his hand.

"Feliks was there." This caused his brother's red orbs to flash up at him.

"Did you torture him just like the rest?" Gilbert snarled with narrowed eyes.

"_Nein_, he told me to pass on the message. Tell Toris that he loves him."

Gilbert did not reply and continued to read the sheet of paper.

"Another boy came from Poland. Feliciano Vargas, the other one you and your friends were talking about."

His brother set the paper down and stared up Ludwig.

"Get them out of there Ludwig." Gilbert said all of the sudden.

Ludwig's eyes widened despite trying to have them not but the surprise was certainly...Surprising? "_Was_?"

"You heard me. Get them fucking out of there. You've seen what they do, _get them out_."

"I would be putting your life and grandfather's on the line. They will follow me to the ends of the Earth and hunt every single family member down!"

"Ludwig, more and more people are going to die because of the SS. We need to do as much as we can now."

Dinner that night was lifeless and cold, tensions high across the table. A rebel and a monster. The fate of his whole family, his brother's friends, Feliciano and Feliks rested in the palm of Ludwig's hands as he stared at the meal. It had grown cold before his grandfather scolded him. But the German didn't notice. His feet carried him up to his bedroom without him noticing, crashing down onto the bed.

Guilt and nerves entered his stomach. He would get them out.

* * *

_July 9th, 1942: Berlin (Nazi) Germany_

It had been three days since Feliciano cracked. All it had taken was three dunks into the freezing water before the broke the truth out.

"You're very nice Ludwig," Feliciano smiled from his position sitting on the floor, looking up at the German through the bars.

Right now Ludwig looked like he was calculating in the surprise. He could tell he always thought before answering, probably because he wasn't suppose to be talking to him.

"Um, _danke_ Feliciano." He stiffly replied, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Ludwig..?"

"_Ja_?"

"Why are you with the _Schutzstaffel_?" The Italian asked, his pronunciations of the German warped on his tongue.

Ludwig couldn't help but chuckle at the mispronunciation. "I was with the _Heer_ until I was promoted into the _Schutzstaffel_."

"Oh." was the only sound Feliciano uttered, tugging at the hem of the clothing he was given for spilling the beans.

Ludwig leaned against the bars on the side which the bars gave a small groan under his muscles. "I'm sorry Feliciano, for all this."

Feliciano blinked. He was quite sure he never imagined a _Schutzstaffel_ Corporal apologizing to him. "Oh, Ludwig, you already apologized earlier."

"_Was_? That was in German." Ludwig blinked, raising an eyebrow as he turned his head slightly to the side to met the Italian's amber orbs. Feliciano met his gaze with another smile and a nod.

"I only know," he put pressed his index finger to his thumb to represent just a little, "that much."

"Enough to get you in trouble, _ja_?"

Feliciano nodded frantically at his answer. The kid seemed to bounce right back from getting his head soaked in freezing cold water. Only had the day after been a little dimmer and distance, his step drowsily and such. Ludwig hadn't been present for that. They were still cracking down on Feliks but the German somehow found a lot of time to hang around Feliciano's cell who in fact enjoyed the German's company though at first he had found him sorta of scary but once he had apologized when he brought him to his cell for the first time, he found himself taken a liking to other. Feliciano always got nervous in his company and an excited bubble in his stomach when he heard the deep heavy accented German voice from down the hall.

"_Sì_! When I was in Italy, there were Germans one time and I ran into them with my bag of tomatoes! Anyone would get mad if you ran into them, _sì_? But they are scary so I tired to say in German and then-then they started laughing and ended up stepping on some of my tomatoes! Oh, Ludwig, it was scary! My family's friend knows German so I told him what I said when I got home and I had said a bad word wrong so that's why they laughed at me!" Feliciano rambled on, flailing his arms everywhere to explain how scary those Germans were. Not as scary and brave as his, not his, Ludwig was though.

"He should probably teach you more words then." Ludwig chuckled softly.

The deep, laughter from Ludwig made Feliciano smile even wider. "I'm stuck here~."

Ludwig turned around from the cell, wincing a bit and taking a deep breath. he knew. He had developed feelings for for Feliciano. _Nein_, he had feelings for the other once he saw him come out of the truck. Not until today had he figured out what was making his heart act like this. Love. And the one thing he wanted to avoid especially on prisoners.

Feliciano gasped at a sudden idea. "You can teach me German!"

"Oh _ja_?" Ludwig replied with a raised eyebrow. Teaching Feliciano German? It would be like attempting to have Ludwig learn Italian. Impossible.

"Yeah! Give me simple phrases and I'll repeated them back." Feliciano beamed.

"Okay. _Guten Morgen, Guten Tag, und Gute Nacht_."

Feliciano tried out the words on his tongue with laughter, trying to mock the way Ludwig had pronounced them. The Italian frowned, looking up at the German hopelessly before giving pleading eyes for more words. Ludwig's bright blue eyes met his before he sighed.

"_Auf Wiedersehen... Bitte schön. Bis morgen.._"

Feliciano repeated them, this time a better which made Ludwig's lips twitch. Not into a smile quite yet but a small twitch. The smile never felt quite comfortable on his face thus never came enough for him to get used to it.

"_Sehr Gut_. I thought you said you knew German?" Ludwig questioned. He shifted his position from leaning to the side on the bars which had started to become painful. He was getting a little nervous, since he hadn't seen anyone in a while. Besides the other prisoners on the third floor, listening to their conversation if they understood English.

Feliciano laughed. His laughter made Ludwig's heart swell just a bit. "Just bad words." He said like they should never be uttered to the human ear with a small childish giggle. Ah, the kid was so innocent it made Ludwig's heart just get a bit larger and softer.

The German froze once he heard distance shouting from the ground floor, his eyes flickering over to Feliciano before they softened in the Italian presence.

"_Auf Wiedersehen. Bis morgen_." He said quickly as he pulled away.

_Goodbye. See you tomorrow._

"_Bis bald,_ Ludwig." came from the Italian as he watched the German leave. Ludwig was slightly surprise. He hadn't taught him that.

_See you soon, Ludwig. _He swore he could hear a few words uttered after._  
_

_Bitte, bitte kommen Siebald wieder.__ Please, please come back soon._

Ludwig concluded he was just hearing voices.


End file.
